In The Night
by HyperCaz
Summary: Van Helsing isn't the only one to ever have strange dreams about a former life...anyone thought about Carl?...Carl begins to question the Holy Order due to these dreams, and realises he wants to walk a different path.
1. Book Murderer

Disclaimer: I don't own VH or SPC. *cowers* I'm just borrowing your slogan, guys!

No crossover this chapter, just plain Carl humour.

* * *

Carl the friar flicked through his books rapidly exactly the way most people don't at midnight. "Most people" would have their heads drooping forward and wondering why they got out of bed after a nonsensical dream to flick through books. And they wouldn't have the lovely library that Carl had at his disposal, though most of them weren't suited to his research anyway.

Frustrated, he threw a book across the room and watched with satisfaction as it slammed into the wall. Carl couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard the book cry, "Murderer!"

Carl blinked.

Just for the heck of it, he threw another book.

Again, the book cried, "Murderer!"

"What in God's name…?"

Carl glared at the fallen books carefully, then jumped up to save them when he realised the pages were bent at dire angles. He smoothed out of the paper, looking around the library guiltily. Cardinal Jinette was nowhere in sight. The cranky religious man was probably snoring his head off, fingers shut in a heavy bound Bible. Carl figured it was just as well no one saw him prodding the wall, warily listening for any sound.

The friar stepped backwards a few steps into the table he had been using and glared down the aisle. He seized a book that rambled on about whichever Thesis Martin Luther wrote and threw it with all his might at the stones.

"CARL, YOU MURDERER!"

Carl went flying backwards over the table in shock. He found himself looking up the ornate ceiling, or closer to him, the amused face of Van Helsing.

"You!" Carl pointed up as far as he could.

"Me," the monster hunter said simply.

"You're meant to be in Ireland."

"I was."

"Did you bring him with you?"

"Wrapped in a sheet."

Carl let out a gusty sigh. "Apprehend does not mean slice, dice, peel and deliver."

Van Helsing stepped over him and inspected the open texts Carl had been looking at in earnest. Some were open at ink pictures that could be classified as scribbled lines. The monster hunter read a few lines to himself and stared at his friend.

"I didn't know they had this blasphemy in here," Van Helsing commented.

Carl sprang to his feet and slammed into the table so that he slid off onto the floor on the other side, taking the books with him.

"They don't," Carl said defiantly. "I keep them hidden. Besides, there are scientific and logical reasons behind the so called powers that these so called witches have."

Van Helsing raised an eyebrow. "No, that's not the book I saw. You've been looking up dream interpretation again – please, Carl, don't bother yourself. There are perfectly _logical_ reasons for me having dreams about battles in the past."

"There are, hm?"

"I stick dangerous weapons into people. Why shouldn't I do it while I'm asleep?"

"For your information..." Carl rolled to the side to avoid Van Helsing's boot. "I was trying to interpret my own dreams."

"Carl, there are perfectly logical reasons for dreaming about test tubes trying to kill you. It just means you need to do more field work," the monster hunter added encouragingly, watching Carl roll away from his feet.

The friar levered himself off the ground using a bookshelf. He snapped, "Just because all of Europe is calling you murderer doesn't mean you can pass the favour onto me."

"You're changing the subject," Van Helsing observed. "And besides, I thought you were doing the books an injustice."

Carl's ears went red. "Fine! You want to know why I'm leafing through non-religious books?"

"You already curse and sleep with barmaids, why not this?"

Carl threw his hands up in frustration, then squeezed them together in a loop, imagining Van Helsing's throat between them. He was not going to let the taller man win this. The monster hunter smiled wickedly. Carl leered back at him. The offensive this time was a series of rather sordid hand gestures which might have involved a barmaid. Carl sighed.

"Alright," he said. "I've been having the same dream for two weeks now…"

* * *

Hehe! That was so much fun to write. Sorry it was so short :(

Next chapter: the weird dreams Carl has been having.

Guess the crossover. No really, guess. Think Australian actor David Wenham!!! (Carl for the ignorant movie goers)

Aussie, Aussie, Aussie!

Oi, oi, oi!

_And think New Zealand movies._


	2. The Dream and the Sword

Disclaimer: I don't own Van Helsing. I don't own LOTR either.

Yes, everyone more or less guessed the movie crossover. *waggles eyebrows*

THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS! You don't know how rare reviews can be…they mean so much to me.

RIGHT if you haven't read the LOTR books: Faramir was made the Steward of Gondor, (je pense) and he got married to Éowyn. My setting is always half movie, half book anyway.

In this chapter: The dream sequence, some humour and some Vangst! My new word – Vangst! I _was _going to skip the Vangst all together, but to make this realistic…*cough*

Definition of Vangst: Just the usual Van Helsing-missing-Anna angst.

* * *

"_My lord Steward!"_

_Carl felt himself turn around to face a harried man pulling on old fashioned armour with each step he took. He wasn't the only one – a whole company wearing the same armour with a white tree on the chest plate stood in wait. Endless rolling plains stretched out either side on them, empty and peaceful. The sky above was so blue that it hurt to look at for too long._

"_What is it, Captain?" Carl asked without any forewarning on his part._

_The soldier facing him, while absently trying to find a sword on his belt, allowed a mischievous grin to spill onto his features. "Your wife, the fair Lady Éowyn, sends a message."_

_The surrounding men chortled. Carl felt indignant, but not because they were laughing at him. He didn't have a wife, as far as he remembered, and had never set foot in this Eden_ _of a place anyway! He didn't even know man who was smirking like a vampire at all._

"_What in Middle Earth would that be?" demanded Carl, honestly feeling the words he spoke._

_A soldier detached itself from the ranks and removed their helmet. It was a woman with golden locks and flashing eyes. Carl hurriedly tried to remember her name, the one that the Captain had mentioned. What was her name? She was stunningly beautiful, even adorned in rough and beaten armour._

_She tucked her helmet under her arm. "You shouldn't have left me at home."_

* * *

– a_nd suddenly he was brandishing a bloody sword, aimed at the vile creature who snarled through its own ugliness at him. Carl was petrified to the spot, but his arms moved and sliced through his attacker. Black blood spilled down the blade onto his gloves and he stared in mortification as hundreds more of the creatures seemed to rise in its place._

"_Back to Minas Tirith!" Carl yelled as loud as he could, extremely relieved when his body complied with his mind and sped away from the battle…_

* * *

_He couldn't breathe._

_Every lungful of smoke burnt right down his throat, so Carl stopped trying to draw in any oxygen. Immense heat pressed on him from all sides, bringing on the feeling of being slightly claustrophobic. He heard shouts over the hungry flames crackling near his ears. His mind seemed to be functioning slowly and he couldn't make out who was behind the ruckus._

"_He's alive!" persisted one voice._

Funny, _Carl thought foggily, _I don't feel very much alive.

_He was so tired…dead tired…and he just wanted to go close his eyes again, away from this horrible…reality? Or was it just a nightmare that plagued him?_

_He thought he saw a man standing above him, defiantly tall against the flames. Carl wasn't sure if his eyes were deceiving him. No one would stand in death's way like that. Except maybe my father…_

I don't have a father_, Carl argued with himself, _at least – not one I remember_._

"_Father!" he cried anyway, his voice emerging as a quiet rasp. "Father..."_

* * *

There was a pause after Carl had recounted everything he could remember from the dream.

"You know what I think?" Van Helsing said at last. "I think you've been hanging around me too much."

This was the last straw for the friar, who had just shared one of his best kept secrets. Mercilessly, he threw heavy items at his one man audience until he ran out of ammunition. By this time, Carl expected Van Helsing to be smirking broadly at him. When he finally looked at the area he'd been doggedly throwing things, he saw he'd cleaned missed his target.

Van Helsing was not smirking. He was looking at Carl in a shrewd, calculating manner with something of a sympathetic expression on his face. The monster hunter realised out loud, "You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"What, you only just figured it out then?" demanded Carl angrily.

The taller man took a seat which hadn't been damaged in the friar's attack, and tried to sound flippant. "Oh, I never know with you. You mope about when your lab gets blown up."

"And you mope about kisses and past assignments!" Carl shot back at him and immediately wished he hadn't.

"You don't know enough to make assumptions," Van Helsing growled.

Carl nervously backed away. "It's nothing to get riled up about."

He was mentally cursing himself. He should have talked to the hunter before about Anna instead of ignoring it. Carl wasn't blind – he'd seen that exchange between the Valerious woman and Van Helsing. The friar was about to talk reason into his friend when he saw the golden eyes glaring at him in unbound anger.

"Van Helsing?" Carl squeaked.

There was no verbal reply. The hunter came towards him, activating his Tojo blades.

"Dear Lord!" Carl cried, becoming really panicked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!"

He lost his head completely, but unlike Van Helsing who was clearly taken by fury, he lost it in fear. Carl frantically ran down an aisle straight into a dead end. Somehow he knew lobbing books would not save him. His eyes found the ancient sword hung on the wall. Immediately two parts of his brain fought with each other.

_Don't be stupid._

But at least I'll be doing something!

_He'll still slice you to bits._

I've used these in my dreams.

_Sure, dreams are _sooo _real._

"Shut up!" Carl muttered and wrenched the weapon off the wall in desperation.

He turned to face an enraged Van Helsing, counting to three and ran blindly towards the hunter screaming. Without knowing what he was doing, Carl swung up the sword and intercepted one of the Tojo blades, flicking it right out of Van Helsing's hand. He narrowly avoided the other.

He brought up the sword for another pass, but the hunter was blinking out of his trance. Upon seeing Carl, Van Helsing opened his mouth in astonishment.

"It's all right," Carl blabbed quickly. "You don't have to apologise – I forgive you. The matter is forgotten."

Van Helsing went to speak but Carl cut over him, "I won't ever, ever mention it again."

"It's not that," Van Helsing said when he could.

Carl shook while waiting for him to elaborate. He did.

"I didn't know you could wield a sword."

"Neither did I," Carl confessed, looking the blade up and down.

"We need to talk."

Carl nodded fervently.

* * *

Did anyone else find this really funny? I kept laughing all the way through it. Or am I just weird…?

Remember: I do like to write serious fics, and I had hoped this would be one of them, but it may turn out a little silly like this chapter.

Oh and don't you love those page breaks?

* * *

"…Faramir moaned and called on his father in his dream." – Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien.

"He's alive!" – Peregrin Took in the movie adaptation of ROTK.

"Vangst" – HyperCaz. It's my lovely word, but I want everyone to pass it on, savvy?


	3. Belief and Trust

Disclaimer: DO WE HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS EVERY SINGLE TIME?

Hello! I glad you all enjoyed the last rather silly chapter. THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS YOU BLOODY LEGENDS!!!

I don't really revel in Vangst but, hey, if we're having a tête-à-tête let's throw _some_ in. Note, please, I don't want to focus on Van Helsing and his Vangsty tendencies. So next chapter will mark the END OF THE VANGST in this story. The _real _Vangst anyhow.

Also: I have now gotten a plot! And because I do, my story is now going to take a turn.

I would like to use this space to congratulate Midnight Dove on her fic _She's Not Dead Yet!_ Go read it. It is FUNNY and oh so TRUE. But I like the kinds of fics she made fun of anyways…I'm a hypocrite. *sighs*

_

* * *

_

"You first," Carl requested immediately, dropping into a seat in his crammed quarters.

"Me?" Van Helsing snorted. "I don't have anything to talk about."

The friar watched him pace the room for a moment then said dryly, "Sure, Mr-Who-Chased-A-Friar-Through-A-Library-With-Intent-To-Kill."

Van Helsing did not look amused. "I have nothing to say."

"I don't believe you," Carl said flatly.

There was a brief silence in which the entire room shook accompanied by the rather loud sound of an explosion. Carl knew where it was coming from. He pushed his chair back into the door and reached a hand back to lock it.

"Your lab just blew up again," Van Helsing noted. "Perhaps you should check it out."

"No. I will have you unburden yourself first. Your display in the library was more than a hint that _you need to talk_."

The hunter glared at him for a moment, but seemed to be working past some indecision. Finally, he squeezed into the tiny window seat that was opposite Carl and shifted uncomfortably. "Since returning from Transylvania, I have suffered side affects from being bitten by Anna's brother. I am not completely cured. You will recall that I was sent on assignment to Lichtenstein four months ago. While tracking down my target, I lost control of myself and assumed the werewolf form."

When Van Helsing verified that he had Carl's attention, he let his eyes glow gold and his jaw and nose to lengthen into a snout. Carl was utterly riveted.

"Good God," he breathed in amazement.

Van Helsing resumed his natural form calmly, albeit shaking with exhaustion. He confessed, "Holding back the rage takes nearly all my energy."

"Well," Carl said after a moment. "Is there something else you want to talk about, hm?"

"Anna," Van Helsing said simply.

Carl threw his hands up. "Praise the Lord you're finally talking about it. So was it passionate love?"

The hunter shook his head adamantly. "I only knew her for a short time, Carl. I don't know what it was. I might have felt something, but I can't really tell. But things are better left forgotten…"

"My turn!" Carl said suddenly.

Van Helsing looked at him in surprise, feeling a little put out but also relieved. There was an intense expression on the friar's face as if he was trying to remember something. Carl scrunched up his eyes then declared happily, "I've remembered her name! Éowyn. I also remember she was as good with a sword as me."

"Carl, I hate to break it to you," Van Helsing pointed out. "But unless Cardinal Jinette is a liar and an ungodly man, you've never learnt the sword."

Carl decided to pitch his sanity to the winds.

"I think I learned it in my previous life," he continued hurriedly. "And I think that your dreams about battles past aren't just dreams."

Carl waited for the hammer to fall, waited for his friend to tell him he was insane and to mind his own damn business. The panelling and glass around Van Helsing creaked as the hunter leant forward. "I believe you."

"You do?" squeaked Carl in relief, humming with reprieve.

Van Helsing merely nodded.

The stillness of the room was only slightly affected by the distant cries of Knights of the Holy Order putting some order into the disorder arranged by Carl's laboratory. The only light came from a lone gas torch (one of Carl's lovely new inventions) held in the unwavering hand of Van Helsing.

"What are we doing here?" whispered Carl loudly.

The hunter gave a nondescript reply. "I want to find out something."

He moved a few steps away from Carl and extinguished the torch, throwing the pair of them into darkness. The friar blinked quickly, trying to obtain some sort of night vision. He made to step forward and stumbled over something on the ground. Carl's fingers grabbed it and a searing pain went across his fingertips.

He's just scrabbled at a sword! Carl found the hilt with his right hand and jumped to his feet. He said timidly, "Van Helsing? Are you there? I found a sword on the floor and I was wondering if you wanted to have a look at it."

There was no answer. Carl hovered uneasily for a moment, then turned around slowly.

Unexpectedly, he heard Van Helsing let out a cry from nearby and come at him. If Carl's reflexes had been as slow as his mind, he might have been skewered. As it was, Carl nearly dropped the sword when it met another. He said furiously, "Are you crazy?? You could have killed me!"

"Well, you're right about one thing," Van Helsing observed. "You do know the sword. No, I'm not crazy. I knew you could parry."

Carl was perfectly composed as he spoke through the dark at him, "You took an awful risk. Just because I was having dreams about wielding a sword didn't mean I could."

"You did."

"So I did," Carl agreed.

A flash of light blinded the friar as Van Helsing turned the gas up again for the torch he was carrying and the flame turned from dim blue to a dark orange. The hunter said casually, "I'll see you in the morning."

"It is morning," grumbled Carl.

* * *

The gas torch: Bronze alloy rod with felt and leather covering. The top of it is an encased gas chamber where a lit match or splint can light it!

Go me I made an invention.

_Next chapter:_

_Another dream_

_Van Helsing goes ballistic at Cardinal Jinette_

_And Carl does something even more out of his character…well maybe not_


	4. Man in the Mirror

Disclaimer: Mirror, mirror on the wall! Tell me who is the owner of this all? Certainly not me.

HELLO everyone. You are LEGENDS for reviewing. AND I have TONNES of IDEAS to give everyone so yay!

Important: I know LOTR is almost a totally different reality but let's just pretend that hundreds of years ago the events of the books/movies took place and since then have been slightly forgotten and country names have been changed. So there! And it would explain something about monsters roaming around…

* * *

_Carl dreamt that he was looking in a mirror, but the reflection was different from what he knew his appearance to be. The reflection had the same face, but hardened and framed by longer hair._

_"Who are you?" Carl demanded._

_"I'm you," the reflection replied._

_Carl shook his head adamantly. ""I would know if I was you, so don't try to fool me."_

_The reflection immediately scolded him, "Don't be obstinate, friar. Where do you think you learnt the sword? Where are these dreams coming from? I am you, countless years ago."_

_"That is...most peculiar," Carl commented, not really sure what to say. "Then surely this is none of my business. Van Helsing is always saying to leave the past, in the past."_

_His reflection's lips twitched. "But past history is what makes you who you are. You are fooling yourself – you are no friar, but a hunter like the aforementioned Van Helsing."_

_Carl thought it most unusual to be arguing with himself, if indeed this reflection of a warrior was him. Carl knew he wasn't the bravest of men so found the idea of being a strong soldier most foreign. He managed to sound controlled. "I am no hunter. I construct weapons, I suppose, that the Holy Order gives to people like Van Helsing to slay monsters."_

_"Monsters the rest of the Order will never hear the dying cries of," his reflection said bitterly._

_Carl was startled to hear one of his most buried statements issue out of the stranger in the mirror. He's seen the tortured expression on Van Helsing's face after every assignment and wondered why the Cardinal let it happen. Carl asked again urgently, "Who are you?"_

_The man in the mirror drew himself up. "Can you not remember?"_

_"Faramir..." whispered Carl in reverence._

* * *

A loud roar of fury brought Carl to the waking world with a jolt. The friar threw himself out of bed and tried to smooth out the robe he'd worn while he slept. Carl opened his door and followed the sound of heated voices back down in the bowels of the headquarters.

He saw Van Helsing glaring in a hostile manner at Cardinal Jinette and saying vehemently,

"I abhor the killing of children, ones innocent of any crime their parents may have committed."

"No tree of evil can bear innocent fruit," the Cardinal remonstrated, clearly disturbed by the attention the argument was drawing.

Van Helsing clenched his fists. "The child can be turned to God. It could be the will of God that the child repents for his own sins."

"It is the will of God that you are a knight of the Holy Order," Jinette responded firmly. "That you rid the world of those who are evil."

Carl was silently cheering on the hunter. He nervously twisted his hands this way and that, though, waiting for the Cardinal to beat down Van Helsing as he always did.

"You've never seen the monsters you send me to hunt," Van Helsing snapped. "They'd give you nightmares – that's why you don't go yourself."

"Yes!" Carl exclaimed, then hushed as everyone stared at him.

The friar cleared his throat and repeated what the man in the mirror had said to him, "Monsters the rest of the Order will never hear the dying cries of."

Van Helsing threw him an unreadable glance. But Cardinal Jinette was unmoved and simply stated, "I expect you out on assignment within half a day."

As the quiet crowd dispersed to make it look like they hadn't been listening, Carl fought his way over to the hunter. Van Helsing looked quietly infuriated now, making an obvious attempt to calm himself down. His eyes were glowing gold still.

"That was sweet – I really appreciated it," Van Helsing noted.

"Really?"

"No. Ever heard of sarcasm?"

"Not lately," Carl was forced to consider.

His taller friend began walking briskly out of the main headquarter area. The friar followed him in concern, but dared not say anything. Once out of sight from anyone else, Van Helsing turned and punched the wall. The hard surface caved in under his unnaturally strong hands.

"Blast!" he said fiercely. "It is against my morals and better judgement."

Carl tried to be complacent, and failed. "You've killed children before."

Van Helsing spun to glare at him, jaw lengthening and not because he was about to yell at Carl.

"Or you could just leave this place?" The friar nervously backed away, watching the hunter's snarl become a wicked canine grin. "I thought you said you could control when you became a werewolf."

The hunter replied fearlessly in more of a growl, "I can."

Carl resisted the urge to whimper. "I'll try to talk some sense into the Cardinal. Please don't transform…I just swept this room of fluff yesterday!"

Van Helsing snorted with laughter. His appearance returned to normal but he flashed his eyes at Carl to make the friar even more anxious. It had the desired effect.

"I'm off!" Carl declared and ran the opposite direction as fast as possible.

Carl found the Cardinal poring over huge texts almost feverishly in the small study that accommodated his work. Carl hovered near the doorway, uncertain. He couldn't really knock sense into the religious man with a club, and he was awful at any sort of verbal confrontation.

"C-Cardinal," he stuttered.

"Brother Carl," Cardinal Jinette returned. "Have you talked sense into Van Helsing?"

_Talk sense into someone like Van Helsing?_ Carl mentally demanded. _About as safe as poking a gargoyle in the eye._

_At least there is already sense in the hunter_, said a nasty little voice in the back of his brain.

Carl willed it away as he spoke to the Cardinal with slighted respect. "Van Helsing is a moral man and you have challenged his morals, not just with this latest assignment, but by sending him out to kill monsters, some of which could be innocent."

Jinette laid aside his books and stared up at him sternly. "Your perception of this matter is clouded, Brother Carl."

Exasperated, Carl stormed outside and slammed the door as hard as he could. He shook his fists at the door. It gave him an oddly satisfying feeling – that was until he saw Van Helsing leaning against the wall and grinning at him in amusement. Carl felt his cheeks flame.

"That was short lived," commented Van Helsing. "Here I was thinking you'd stand up for me a little more valiantly."

Carl straightened his back and pointed at the door. "You do your own talking."

"Alright. You can disappear off to your lab now."

"No – this I must to see," Carl said eagerly.

Van Helsing shrugged without a trace of good humour. "Fine."

And kicked the door open with a well place boot.

The Cardinal stood up instantly. "I must protest in regards to this intrusion, Van Helsing."

"Oh, really?" the hunter asked dangerously, his eyes having the beginnings of gold in their irises. "Let me tell you this, _Cardinal_, I will not slay a child incapable of making his own decisions."

Jinette's face was unravelling from calm to indignant. "You are a servant of God and must obey His will. You came to us at His call."

Van Helsing covered the short distance between them with a bound and slammed him against the wall by the throat. "Don't you mean _your_ will and call? From today, I will not fell one life form at your bidding. I remove myself from your service! And I pity the next man who comes crawling in here to be at your mercy rather than God's!"

He strode out, clearly not to be trifled with. Carl followed him hurriedly, making sure the door shut behind him.

"That was some display!" The friar complimented cheerfully.

Van Helsing slowed his pace somewhat. "And now I'm out of a job. I'm free of this curse at last – Carl, you're not particularly caught up here are you?"

_Go with him!_ insisted the part of the friar that Carl identified as Faramir.

Carl hurled himself back to the ornate door and peeled it open.

"Damn you to Hell!" he yelled inside.

Hastily running to Van Helsing (who had raised an eyebrow) he said breathlessly, "I've always wanted to do that! Where are we going, then?"

* * *

Woohoo! Elvis has left the building!

Sorry – I did mean for Van to be a bit more ballistic but oh wells. Can't win 'em all. Hey, be pleased, these chapters are getting longer all the time.

"We slice, dice, peel and we deliver all the goodness straight to you!" – SPC

Did you know that where this writing is a snippet of song used to be? It was just a quote.


	5. Voices in the Head

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Kudos to those who reviewed! THANK YOU SO MUCH!

The following people ARE LEGENDS:

Liz Castel

Star Mage1

Verona Dracula

Szhismine

JadeiteZ

AN: My summary _was_ a little incorrect so I've changed it. Now – why do I never refer to Van Helsing as Gabriel? My reasoning: that was his name centuries ago, the one that Dracula knew. His name now is just Van Helsing. He doesn't know his first name. Also! We'll be seeing lovely Éowyn in a few chapters…she's not far gone.

* * *

Carl scurried around his lab hurriedly, shoving various items into leather bags. He had to do this quickly and make off with his inventions and books – he seriously doubted anyone in the Order would be smart enough to translate his scrawl or make any sense of the strange contraptions lying about.

Plus, Carl had a suspicion that Van Helsing didn't exactly want to retire from monster hunting. He tried to imagine the man sitting in a café in France, simply admiring the view. The mental image turned into a quick but bloody battle.

Van Helsing himself appeared at the doorway. "I think we've overstayed our welcome."

"I just couldn't leave all this here!" Carl protested. "It's most of my life's work, tending to my inventions. And besides, you're going to still need my scientific help."

"Am I?" Van Helsing asked deliberately.

Carl stopped packing and spun to face him. "Just because we're free of all this doesn't mean we can't keep up the good work. But, instead of killing our…_prey_…we could recruit them!"

Van Helsing shrugged nonchalantly. "Alright, then. I was hedging on you to come up with a plan, anyway."

"Hold this!" Carl threw a heavy bag at the hunter and watched with satisfaction as Van Helsing let out an _oof._ "Hedging on me to come up with a plan? Is that the only reason you asked me to come along?"

"Well, I like you quite a lot, but not in _that_ way."

"_That_ way, hm?"

"I figured I'd need a partner," Van Helsing ploughed on. "And all of a sudden, you're swinging swords like you've done it for years."

"Centuries! Perhaps even millennia!" Carl corrected.

A moment later, he declared himself done. Carl began lugging bags to the door after throwing a few more at his friend. It was tedious work and none of them spoke while they did it. They came across few monks and holy men who gave them scathing glances but did not stop them in their actions.

"I always thought he was hostile one!" Carl gasped between breaths. "Always looked at me funny."

Van Helsing recalled calmly, "You did electrocute him."

The hunter sounded merely bored. Carl was in stitches and immediately cursed Van Helsing for being fit. The string of obscenities only strove to amuse the man even more. The sight of one the passages that led to the outside quietened the matter.

"Wait, stop," Van Helsing commanded.

Carl dropped his bags with pleasure, but snapped, "The Cardinal will be already running from his room."

"It'd take him half a year," Van Helsing dismissed. "Are you going to wear that?"

The hunter gestured at the religious wear. Carl was rather fond of his friar robes. He thought they made him look somewhat intelligent. He paused in his indecision.

_I'm a man of God_, Carl debated rapidly with the other half of himself.

_And you still are_, Faramir told him. _But_ _you are not suited to walk the path of a friar._

_Dammit, I know that!_ Carl thought furiously.

"I'll change later," he said out loud. "Cardinal Jinette is still in possession of two legs and a mouth. We must hasten."

* * *

"I could sleep for a million years!" declared Carl, staring up at the ceiling of the room they'd coined for at an inn.

Van Helsing was checking over his weapons carefully by the sounds of the clicks coming from the window side of the room. The hunter seemed unaware that Carl had spoken at all.

_Oh, you've got to hand it to him._ Carl sighed mentally. _He's good at what he does._

He waited. He was not disappointed.

_So what's it to be_, friar? _Whether you like it or not, you're me. _

_Leave me alone._ Carl rolled over and clamped his hands over his ears.

_You have a different path_, Faramir insisted. _You're_ _a hunter. We always were._

"AH!" Carl yelled out loud and toppled off onto the hard wooden floors. "STAY OUT OF MY HEAD!"

Van Helsing looked at him in surprise and ran to his assistance. He asked in concern, "Are you alright?"

Carl ignored him and went straight for Van Helsing's single bag, pulling a shirt and a pair of trousers out. He was dismayed to find the little collection of clothes that his companion did have was mostly black and worn.

"Don't peek!" Carl demanded and went about pulling his robe off.

A few minutes later, he bullied Van Helsing into a pair of boots, trying hard not to look at his former garments that were thrown into a desolate pile. Carl tightened the last string on the boots.

"What was all that about?" Van Helsing wanted to know, eyes narrowed with unease. "I believed it would be harder than this to convince you to discard that robe."

Carl strode up to him and jabbed a finger at his own temple. "_You_ do not have voices in your head from the man you were centuries ago! _You_ do not have him hounding you to pick up a sword and hunt!"

Carl was frazzled in the worst degree. He shot a glare at his companion which dared the other to argue. Van Helsing said with a smirk, "Hearing voices is the first sign of insanity."

"I know that, dammit!" Carl cursed and liked doing so.

Van Helsing knew at once he was on safe territory again. He rubbed his hands together. "Have you formulated a plan for whatever we're going to be doing for the rest of our partnership?"

"Now that you mention it…"

Carl mused to himself for a moment, paced the room for a few more moments and sat down in the middle of the squalid room. He crossed his legs.

"Right," he said. "I believe you want to remain in the business of ridding the world of evil. To do so, I'll need a lab meaning we need some sort of headquarters. For that, we need some quid." Carl paused and savoured the word again. "Quid. We should take up bounties – only evil and such of course!"

It was just as well he added that, for Van Helsing's eyes had glowed gold. Carl gave him a dirty look and continued, "We need new names. You can think yours up, I've settled on Faramir for myself."

"I'm not a mercenary," Van Helsing grumbled.

"For the time being," Carl reminded him, then took a breath. "Also – would you mind teaching me how to fire a pistol?"

* * *

Another chappie gone…and it wasn't longer than last time! Oh no!

_Coming up in chapter six:_

_Bounties _

_The first recruitment_

_The New Order_


	6. First Contract, Brothers in Arms

Disclaimer: If I owned this…the possibilities would be endless.

I'm on fire! Yes I am! I'm becoming a Wenham nut!! Thankyou ChibiKaz for that phrase. Yes, I'm a Wenham nut. I'm absolutely in love with him. Just not obsessed like I am with Orlando Bloom, Eric Bana and Daniel Radcliffe. Yet.

The genre of this fic is weird. It could be serious fic and a funny fic aside. Unfortunately, my teaser at the end of the last chapter was incorrect. I write teasers only to inspire myself so will not always stick to them.

I've just caught up with my reviews. Liz Castel decided on a name for our Faramir/Carl character…..Caramir! Hehe lol.

Trivia: If you can guess where Van Helsing's alias comes from, I'll give you a chapter dedication.

* * *

"The Bard Inn," Carl read off a grubby scrap of paper. "This is it."

Van Helsing allowed a small nod in confirmation. The rain that fell down onto his hat dripped off steadily and soaked through his dark clothes. Dressed as he usually was, the hunter looked very unconcerned by the wet.

Carl, however, was miserable. He was sodden and cold to the point that his limbs moved just as sluggishly as his feet plodded through the mud. It didn't help that the weight of dual pistols, a silver stake and a sword held him down to the ground even more. He knew he'd have trouble carting around the weapons simply for the fact that they _were_ weapons, but it seemed as though their purpose was to only hinder him.

He followed Van Helsing into the inn gratefully, immediately swiping off his own wide brimmed hat and wringing it out onto the already slicked floor as he walked. Carl shifted uncomfortably as several inquiring gazes lit his direction. He shook out his growing hair, effectively spraying his companion.

Van Helsing did not look impressed. He scowled, but said nothing.

"You were already wet anyway!" Carl kept his voice to a low mutter. "There's no need to flash your eyes at me."

"I didn't."

"You were going to."

Van Helsing did not continue to quiet debate, but leant across the bar and got the attention of the barman. The hunter asked evenly, "Could you direct us to Jason Kendrick?"

"He'd be wantin' your names first," suggested the barman with an unidentifiable glint in his eye.

"Jack and Faramir Willis," Van Helsing supplied without preamble. "I'll have a double scotch in the meantime. My partner will take the same."

Once the barman disappeared through a set of flimsy doors, Carl jabbed Van Helsing in the ribs. "Do you know how much trouble I have with scotch? Since when would I order such vile tasting liquid?"

Carl was far too used to sacramental wine and beer. Spirits had that unnerving ability to send him to bed for days. He swallowed and tried not to mention this.

"Since now, Faramir," rejoined Van Helsing tightly.

Carl got the message and shut up immediately. His companion had not used that tone of voice since a stray bullet from a stray aimed pistol has struck the wall right beside his head. Carl had learnt not to pull the trigger absently. When at last he'd managed to figure out the dangerous end from the safe end, Van Helsing had declared that there was a sizeable bounty offered by a visitor to the area.

"In the area" meant the drizzle that made up most of London. Carl quickly discovered that the city was considerably big when all the alleys were taken into account. He was startled out of drooping his head when the barman returned.

"He's to th' back," the gruff man told them. "So's th' scotches."

Van Helsing rearranged his face into a grim smile and, after a short tug on the back of Carl's coat, navigated through the maze that was card games and pleasure girls to the back room, sealed off with expensive drapes. Carl waited a moment after Van Helsing pushed aside the heavy cloth then followed into the room.

Jason Kendrick's "back room" was completely velvet, the covering of the room giving it a stuffy feeling. No windows were present, the only light filtering through an adjoining room hidden by drapes also. Van Helsing did not make himself comfortable among the empty seats so Carl did not do so either.

_Seats are dangerous_, Carl thought sarcastically.

No comment was made from Faramir, though it may have been forthcoming in the next moment had Jason Kendrick not entered the room, flanked by two heavy set men. Kendrick arranged himself lazily across an ornate but comfortable lounge.

"Sit," the man commanded, disquieting storm cloud eyes narrowed.

Van Helsing remained where he was. ""We'd rather stand."

Carl's feet throbbed in defiance to this statement. He hid his sigh in the scotch glass that was presented to him by one of the bodyguards. Jason Kendrick smiled with deliberate theatrics. "If you insist. I've had many a man come through here to claim my money – none have succeeded. What makes you so sure you can finish what you've started…Misters Willis and Willis?"

"I'm not sure about anything," Van Helsing replied. "Just that I can give you the head of your hunted warlock on a stake."

Jason Kendrick shrugged his thin shoulders, inattentively tugging at his short goatee. He looked merely bored. "Did you know that younger brothers are not the best of partners in this work?"

"He can hold his own," Van Helsing supplied for Carl.

Carl did not like the exclusion he was suffering. He shuffled forward a little and spoke for himself, "I've seen far worse than a warlock. Shadows far worse than those in your nightmares about your plump overbearing mother have leapt at me and I barely batted an eyelid."

_Sure you did_, Faramir whispered in the back of his head.

"How'd you know my mother was plump?" demanded Jason.

"Intuition." Carl shrugged. "Or the portrait behind your head."

Two bright red spots appeared on Jason Kendrick's cheeks. Carl gave him an uncharacteristic smirk. He was just waiting for the man to ask how he knew he had nightmares about his mother. Carl would have simply shrugged again. Kendrick had stiffened and had to visibly relax to sit up properly.

"The warlock," he began distastefully, "is Gregore Chanhassen. He has taken residence in a manor that once belonged to my family on Clydesdale Circle. If you hold up to your promise of bringing me his head, I'll gladly pay a reward and then some."

Van Helsing bowed his head, waited for Carl to repeat the gesture, then swept out of the room. Carl coughed, set down his glass and followed.

"I don't want to know how you managed to peer into his nightmares," Van Helsing said once they had left the inn into the downpour.

Carl shouted over the hard drops, "But I _do_ want to know how in Hell we look like brothers."

"Must be the concussed look in the eyes," Van Helsing replied drolly.

"I was being serious!"

"So was I."

Carl kicked a clump of mud in frustration. Van Helsing could drive a man insane several times over. Carl pulled his hat over his eyes and demanded, "Well, do you have any bright ideas?"

"Somehow, Carl," Van Helsing informed him keenly, "I think you're the one with the bright ideas."

Carl pulled his coat further over his shoulders, scowling at his companion's cheer. He snapped, "First, a hot bath. Second, a decent siesta. Lastly, I suppose we shuffle the bounty higher on our 'to do' list."

"I hope there is adequate time in that schedule to go shopping."

"If you wanted to go shopping for tights, _Jack_, I would suggest you take the quick trip down to Paris."

* * *

Sunlight streamed into Carl's eyes and, for a moment, the friar turned hunter believed he was melting in the sun. He let out a short yelp and rolled over – to fall straight onto a hard, unforgiving floor. He opened his eyes to find Van Helsing smiling down at him. "Good morning."

"Sun!" protested Carl in a moan. "Make the sun go away!"

He was hoisted to his feet by an unsympathetic Van Helsing, who asked of him sweetly, "Are you turning into a vampire, now?"

"God, no!"

Carl dove for his boots. As he did so, he closed a fist around the cross that hung around his neck. Relieved, he tucked himself into a ball and rolled across the floor to where his jacket was.

"Interesting way to get around," mused Van Helsing.

"Oh, shut up," Carl snapped at him. "Unlike you, I did not enjoy a long night of snoring loud enough to wake the dead."

Van Helsing looked over at the stack of crumbled books that had obviously occupied his companion the night before. "We pool our research and intelligence, don't we? I sleep, you work."

"One and a half heads are better than one, I suppose." Carl sighed dramatically, tightening his belt and easing his pistols into their holsters.

The rooms they rented off Madame Helbert were not given in the form of money. Usually it was the sharing of knowledge. So far, Carl had been tight-lipped on what he knew, but got away with dropping hints about vampires. As long as the tenants got along with each other and kept their rooms neat, Helbert said not a word of their existence to the authorities.

Carl swore that he'd already seen a man who was evidently Jack the Ripper living two doors down. To clear the matter up, Van Helsing had bought the man a drink and found out that he was convicted of doing something quite unsavoury to a mob of cows and a brood of chickens.

"_Unsavoury?" Carl had asked at the time._

"_You don't want to know," Van Helsing had said in reply._

Van Helsing wrenched the door open and cleared into the hall. Carl hurried out after him, struggling to straighten his hat. They reached Madame Helbert's room and passed it without a problem – the last few times they'd been interrupted by the woman demanding if they'd seen her "hit".

"Alright, tell me," Van Helsing ordered. "What are we facing?"

Carl gathered his thoughts together as he rattled off what he could remember. "Gregore Chanhassen is a petty scoundrel, made dangerous by his ability to influence money and assets out of his victims. He has enchanted, so they say, totems of…uh…fairies into the real thing."

Van Helsing's lips twitched into a smile. He looked close to laughing, so Carl quickly insisted, "Fairies can be tricky blighters! They're too quick to get a shot at and are strengthened by silver. They can box your ears and perform magic on you so you become dazed. Fairies could well be the next in line for 'most dangerous creature' behind vampires, werewolves and gargoyles."

"Whatever you say, Carl."

Van Helsing consulted with a street page, who was on errand, for directions to Clydesdale Circle. The boy thought they were mad to enter that part of the city, but gave him information nonetheless.

"Fairies can be scary, huh?" Van Helsing wanted to know curiously. "I've never seen one."

Carl reached over and pinched his nose. "They'll do that and more if you're too slow."

"What? Squeeze my nose?"

"Much, much worse. I just wanted to squeeze your nose."

"I won't ask why…" Van Helsing muttered.

The streets grew darker and grimier, though the houses more sophisticated. Carl didn't no whether to be alarmed or not at this. They reached the deserted change over into the Circle and, trading glances, turned into it. The buildings lining it were derelict and full of scurrying vermin.

"Van Helsing…" Carl twittered nervously.

His companion rolled his eyes. "I thought we were over this fear of things-not-so-scary-after-all?"

Van Helsing walked up ahead and Carl quickly dashed up, pulling him back. "Are you insane? You nearly walked into a ring of mushrooms."

"How did they get there?" Van Helsing pointed at the obviously out-of-place mushrooms which grew in the middle of the street.

Carl rolled his eyes. "Fairies raise the mushrooms out of the ground to trap unsuspecting victims who venture into them."

"You're full of pigeon poop today," Van Helsing remarked and pushed him into the circle.

Nothing happened. Carl smiled in relief – then the next moment, he had vanished.

* * *

I hope you've figured out where the name Jack Willis comes from!! Remember – whoever guesses it first gets a chapter dedicated!

Now – the teaser which I may or may not stick to:

_Next chapter there will be Gregore Chanhassen and fairies! Also there will be someone joining Carl and Van Helsing._


	7. Jem Kan the fairy

Disclaimer: I own the fairy! Uh huh! I own the fairy! Well, the only thing I knew about them was that they had circle thingies so made up the thing about the silver and the bond so they're mostly mine.

NOTE PLEASE: There is a prequel to this story called _Lichtenstein_. It will only have a couple of chapters but covers Van Helsing finding out he isn't cured and the first signs of Carl having random dreams.

No, Jack Willis is not a mix of Captain (CAPTAIN!) Jack Sparrow and Bruce Willis. LOL Thankyou Verona Dracula and Szhismine for that.

**THIS CHAPTER IS HEREBY DEDICATED TO Canis, who was the first to correctly guess that Jack Willis was the character in **_**Paperback Hero**_** played by Hugh Jackman. **

It's partially dedicated to Mandolin, who guessed second. Yes, the movie is worth it! It appeals to me coz it's set in my country but whatever! I love that movie. *looks pointedly at everyone else* The movie is GOOD.

And Jackman's-Girl – who also guessed. By your name, I'm not surprised! :)

Note: There are no real crossovers I can give Van the Man simply coz they're all in the future (hey, the Logan/Eddie/Jack Willis thing is something that's interested me so look out for it).

* * *

Carl opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. The last thing he remembered was Van Helsing's triumphant face that nothing had happened. Carl snorted – sure, nothing. All he could see was the rafters of what would have been an ornate manor and a swinging light that hung down from the ceiling.

Rolling over onto his stomach, Carl quickly checked his inventory. He still had his weapons and anything else vital. When he looked up from where he was on the floor, he saw a young boy sitting in front of him, legs crossed.

"Uh, hello?" Carl smiled nervously.

The boy seemed delighted. "You're a human."

Carl had a nasty feeling in his stomach. He had not read anywhere that Gregore Chanhassen was ten years old and certainly did not remember warlocks ever wanting to appear as unintelligent minors. Carl stared at the boy. "You're too big for a fairy."

"No, I'm not!" the boy insisted, pouting. "You're just used to seeing us in travel form."

Carl rolled over onto his back and sat up. He was in an attic styled room with great, wide windows that spanned most of the walls. He was also sitting in a circle of mushrooms similar to the one on the road. The boy watched him keenly, as though assessing an experiment.

It is truly an uncomfortable experience being watched by a boy with intense jade eyes, Carl discovered, and tried hard not to look at those mesmerising orbs if he could help it. Carl cleared his dry throat. "I don't suppose you'll let me go down town for a Chianti?"

The boy raised one coppery eyebrow, but conjured a hewn wooden cup filled with a clear liquid and pushed it through the circle. Carl did not touch it.

"If I wanted to perform magic on you," the fairy said sternly, "I'd have done it by now with my own two hands."

"Ah," Carl said intelligibly then gulped down the water.

It wasn't normal water, he decided, as it burnt its way down to his stomach. It refreshed him though, and didn't appear to have any side affects. Carl set the cup down, asking neutrally, "Have you worked long for Mr Chanhassen?"

"All my life," the fairy answered. "He's not as bad as they denounce him."

Carl snorted. In his experience, even though it was limited, warlocks were wicked men who took pleasure in using their magic to befuddle the minds of others.

_Wizards are pleasant enough_, said the Faramir side of him.

Carl choked upon hearing this, as he always did when _that_ particular entity talked about magic and such. He casually tapped a mushroom to see what would happen. The result was being flung back into the invisible wall that made up the other side of the circle.

"OUCH!" exclaimed Carl, who then unsheathed his sword and took a great swing at the air.

Again, he was thrown into a wall that wasn't there.

_Why did I do that_? he demanded of himself. _That's_ _exactly the sort of stupid thing that Van Helsing would do._

Choosing to ignore the grin the fairy had sprouted, Carl sat down again and introduced his alias, "I'm Faramir Willis, monster hunter extraordinaire."

"Jem Kan." The fairy pointed a finger at himself. "I'll tell you nothing more unless you tell me the whole truth."

_Fairies can pick up lies_, Carl remembered too late.

Faramir sounded calmly detached. _If you exclude the Willis, it won't be a lie._

_But it will be to me_, Carl shot back.

* * *

Van Helsing did not like being wrong.

He liked it even less when Carl was right about something he'd been wrong about.

But at least he had a rough idea where the ex-friar would be – chances were, fairies working for Gregore Chanhassen probably kept their prisoners in the manor. Van Helsing continued along Clydesdale Circle until he happened upon the iron gates that announced the manor within as owned by the Kendrick family.

Van Helsing pushed open the gates with one hand, using the other to remove one of his pistols from its holster. Brown leaves littered the path leading to the house, declaring the season and the state of desertion. Reaching the heavy wooden door, the hunter raised one fist and pounded on it.

There was no answer.

Spying a mushroom circle lying innocently off to one side of the porch, Van Helsing decided there was nothing else to it. He stepped into it without hesitation.

* * *

Carl jumped out of the way as his companion appeared in the circle next to him. He made sure he helped Van Helsing into the invisible wall, saying cheerfully, "Jack, bro, this is Jem Kan, resident fairy."

"I thought fairies..." Van Helsing blinked at Jem, rubbing his head. "...were the size of a pistol."

Carl beamed at him. "So did I!"

"Have you been hitting the Absinth?"

"What mean you by that?"

"You know...fairies...cheerfulness..." Van Helsing numbered off. "The way you're talking…"

Carl seemed to recollect himself. "Well, I did drink something Jem gave me and started talking. He..." Carl paused dramatically. "Does not believe that my name is Faramir."

Van Helsing looked aside to the boy with a crop of bronze hair. ""What exactly did you give him?"

"Just water," replied Jem honestly. "I performed a short truth spell on him. It doesn't seem to be working properly, though."

"I'll say. What have you found out?"

The fairy eyed him suspiciously. "He dithered on about slaying monsters for a while, and how it's his line of work – and his partner's. He seemed to believe that he was going to set up a secret organisation that deals with evil."

Here the boy stopped and peered even more intently at Van Helsing. The hunter said guardedly, "Former profession."

Van Helsing could sense no evil surrounding Jem Kan, but felt traces of it downstairs. Obviously, Gregore Chanhassen was beneath the trapdoor several metres from the circle of mushrooms. In order to secure money for such a scheme of Carl's, they had to do away with the warlock, therefore needing Jem's help.

"I'll tell you some truth in place of his words," Van Helsing said at last. "We are planning to set up such an organisation. We have experience in the field. I tell you the truth when I say I can sense evil – and you are not evil, yet the man you work for is."

Jem Kan's complacent expression did not evaporate. Instead, he simply shrugged. "I know."

Carl chose this moment to re-enter the conversation. He had a dazed look about him as he enquired in a small voice, "Then why in God's name are you working for the loony?"

"As long as he lives, I'm bound to do service to him," Jem answered, distress creeping into his voice.

"Oh, _that's_ right!" Carl exclaimed. "Fairies are bound to their masters and can't lay a hand on them! Quick, Van Helsing, let's kill Chanhassen!"

Jem swiftly looked piercingly at Van Helsing who had gone extremely pale. Any thoughts of an alias disappeared as quickly as a vampire could drain a body of blood. Carl was not in his right mind, but that didn't ease the fact he'd just given away his companion's real name.

Van Helsing decided to come clean.

"That is my name," he admitted to the fairy.

Jem Kan did not appear at all disturbed by this. He said coolly, "The name Van Helsing means little to me, but in time it may. If I free you of the circle, and you slay my master, you must let me join you. Of course..." Jem grinned at Carl. "I'll bring him back to his normal state."

There might have been a time that Van Helsing would have not agreed to those terms. But he was no longer a servant to the Holy Order and a monster himself. He quickly assented. Jem clicked his fingers and the ring of mushrooms vanished completely. Another click and Carl's eyes cleared of his stupefied expression.

Carl did not like the smirk he received from Van Helsing and prodded a finger at the taller man's chest. "I will not tolerate your amusement at my expense!"

"I do recall," Van Helsing shot back, "You having a good laugh about my attire upon returning from Lichtenstein."

Carl laughed so hard he nearly fell over. The sight of Van Helsing wearing a frilly dress had been the source of jokes for weeks afterwards. Jem Kan winced at the volume the ex-friar was emitting and, sure enough, Gregore Chanhassen had heard it from downstairs.

The trapdoor slammed open and the warlock lifted gently through the opening. Carl dove for his sword that had fallen in his attempts to escape and brought up one of his pistols to aim at where the warlock was hovering.

Gregore Chanhassen was middle-aged in appearance and had the most unsettling and intimidating blue eyes. His dirty blonde hair was cropped to his ears and he wore a smug expression that anyone would dearly love to smack off him. Jem scampered backwards and changed into the miniature form that fairies are renowned for.

"Mercenaries?" laughed the warlock. "I disposed with the last batch of your kind adequately only a week ago. Has Jason Kendrick not learnt?"

Carl blew his hair out of his face noisily, earning a reproving glare from his companion. Carl squinted at the warlock, trying to find weaknesses. "Well, he learnt to send better mercenaries."

Van Helsing's hands, resting on the handles of his pistols, twitched. He was waiting for the warlock to make the first move. Warlocks could be tricky – particularly with halting bullets in their paths and sending them bolting back to where they originated from. His best chance was to have a diversion.

The deadly Tojo blades fell into his hands, but remained deactivated. Van Helsing glared back at Chanhassen and glowed his eyes gold to unnerve the warlock. Carl exchanged a quick glance with his companion, then suddenly made for the target, brandishing his sword confidently.

Acting on instinct, Carl dodged the blast of magic that was shot at him and rolled under the warlock's feet to the other side. He spied Jem peeking nervously from behind a rather out of place mushroom. The fairy vanished when he saw Carl looking.

Van Helsing activated his Tojo blades and found an equalising position with his feet, watching Carl attempt to drive the warlock his way. When the warlock had moved a few feet closer, Van Helsing slashed out with the spinning blades, but ended up being thrown across the room.

Carl starting firing his pistols rapidly at the warlock, but learnt the painful lesson that his fellow hunter had learnt before. Carl let out a short cry as he was struck in the leg with a returned bullet.

Van Helsing decided there was nothing else for it. He threw his jacket and hat to the side, pulling his vest and shirt over his head at the same time. Carl saw him doing this and searched his pockets for any silver, just in case. He watched the transformation with fascination, while keeping one eye on the advancing warlock.

"I hope you like dogs, Mr Chanhassen," Carl chuckled.

Gregore Chanhassen followed his gaze and Carl had the pleasure of watching his jaw drop in astonishment. The warlock stuttered, "There is no werewolf who can change at will!"

_Oh yes there is_, Carl thought smugly. _Where are you Faramir? You're missing the best action._

_I'm already here – I'm you, remember?_ Faramir said pointedly.

The black werewolf that was Van Helsing howled a challenge then swung his claws into the alarmed warlock. A short spell passed Chanhassen's lips, summoning strong winds within the attic. Carl took hold of an old decaying book shelf – just in case – while using his free hand to load his pistol with silver bullets.

With the scream that accompanied Gregore Chanhassen's death, the wind dropped immediately. Growling, the werewolf seemed to struggle with itself for a moment, then morphed back into a shivering Van Helsing.

Carl lost his grip on the pistol and it fell to the floor piercingly. He tried to find the wound in his thigh, but his vision became cloudy. He didn't hear Van Helsing ask him if he was alright and he didn't hear Jem Kan stating what had happened. He was only aware of sudden warmth coming from where the bullet had entered him…

Watching Carl pass out was not altogether comforting, but Van Helsing knew his friend was in good hands as far as treatment went. Jem had turned back into a boy and was healing the ex-friar already.

"Second mission together, counting Transylvania," Van Helsing mused. "I'm willing to call you a partner."

* * *

There! This is so long I'm gaping at my screen in surprise. I hope it kept you amused! Not as funny as it could have been…sorry…

Go and read the prequel _Lichtenstein_. Tell me what you think!

(No teaser this chapter. I cannot think of anything.)


	8. Moments of Sincerity

Disclaimer: Oh! One of _these_ again? Nope! Not mine.

I refer to the prequel to this, _Lichtenstein_, in this chapter and also the prequel to the movie, _Van Helsing: The London Assignment_. (I bought it, wasted money on it, and LOVED watching Carl in a dress. LOL. Oh, and Van-the-Man introduces himself as Gabriel Van Helsing so I was wrong)

And, um, yeah, I spelt Tojo wrong the previous chapter. I apologise and it's fixed. OMG has anyone read last month's Empire magazine? Hugh Jackman does not look like Hugh Jackman because the pix are so touched up.

NOTE: Silver to fairies is like red cordial to human children.

* * *

_There were voices all around, but he couldn't open his eyes. There was pain from the shafts embedded in his flesh, blossoming passionately. But it told him that he was alive. Yet the thought of his father's disappointment overrode the physical pain. He'd lost to the Orcs. Again._

_He'd failed his father and Gondor._

* * *

Light is a particularly painful thing to encounter when you wake up. Of course, Carl knew this, but he opened his eyes anyway. As a yelp escaped him, Carl seriously considered if he _was_ a vampire.

"Good afternoon," said a familiar voice next to him.

Blinking furiously as he sat up, Carl managed to make out the lounging form of Van Helsing. Before he could completely distinguish his friend, a boy jumped up in front of him and grabbed his nose. Jem Kan made a loud honking noise then turned to Van Helsing. "So like that?"

"Exactly," affirmed Van Helsing.

Carl glared at them both. Jem snickered, then placed his hands on his hips. He demanded a little proudly, "Where's my thanks? I spent a whole _day_ healing you. And no scars either."

Carl did not fail to see the fairy eyeing up the various silver items that Van Helsing was in possession of. Jem smiled hopefully, turning on the cute little boyish charms. Carl struggled to comb a knot out of his hair with his hands, failed, then said quickly, "You're far too young to be addicted to silver."

"But I _like_ silver," pouted Jem. "And I just turned twenty."

Van Helsing dropped a silver stake as he coughed in surprise. The fairy smiled hopefully at it. Carl sighed in exasperation and changed the subject, "I do hope you remembered to severe Chanhassen's head cleanly. Did you secure the money from Jason Kendrick?"

Glad to be in territory he knew the ropes of, Van Helsing produced the wad of notes and threw them at Carl who counted them. The ex-friar smiled and hurled the money back at his companion. "Good. I'd say it's enough for a decent headquarters. Pick a country – any country! I don't really mind – as long as it's not Italy," Carl added thoughtfully.

"I suppose the Cardinal would not like us moving in on the Order," joked Van Helsing dryly.

Jem piped up, "I've always loved Lichtenstein."

"NO!" Van Helsing growled immediately.

Carl noticed that the hunter was trembling uncontrollably and that his eyes had become gold. Carl cleared his throat and tried to make light of the situation. "I know it was embarrassing for you to be seen wearing a dress…"

"Hey, I'd like to know more of that story," Jem suggested keenly.

Van Helsing glared daggers at the both of them. "Then perhaps you'd like to reminisce about Carl wearing a pretty dress and waltzing about Cheapside?"

"If you had managed to track Hyde like you were supposed to," spluttered Carl, "I wouldn't have had to do that!"

"BE QUIET!" roared Jem Kan so loudly that the windows rattled. Once he was satisfied he had their attention, he curved his lips up sweetly. "It is a no to Lichtenstein, then. Do you know any cheap alternatives? As Van Helsing here was telling me, you'd need quite a sizable headquarters for the work we wish to carry out."

"We?" demanded Carl.

Van Helsing met his gaze squarely. "Jem expressed an interest in aiding us."

Carl looked like he was going to explode. He clenched his fists and debated about the best words he could shout.

_Isn't this what you wanted?_ Faramir asked him almost kindly.

Carl mentally snapped at him, _Oh sure, fairies swinging swords._

_Is that so unusual? Our partner is a werewolf._

_There's no OUR! _Carl complained, but he did see Faramir's point.

He heard Van Helsing whisper to Jem, "Don't worry about this – it happens all the time. He's talking with his inner self."

"Inner self?" Jem muttered, unnerved.

"Yes," Carl answered suddenly. "Apparently a few centuries ago I was a warrior named Faramir. Well, I do wish to recruit persons into our new order."

"We need a name," decided Van Helsing.

Jem jumped up excitedly. "Ooh, I know! Silver Addicts Anonymous!"

"No!" Carl and Van Helsing said simultaneously.

Carl tugged at the irritating knot in his hair again. "We're still doing the same work as before, are we not? How about…"

"How about – no?" Van Helsing advised. "We are not going to be the Holy Order Mark II."

"How did you know I was going to say that?"

"Magic."

Jem cleared his throat. "Excuse me! I'm the only one that does magic around here. As we are unresolved in this issue, how about we reach a decision on location?"

Carl snapped his fingers. He knew Van Helsing wasn't going to like his idea, but it seemed the best option. Carl asked Jem carefully, "Does a deserted manor in a derelict village sound reasonable?"

"It does," the fairy mused. "How much is it?"

"Oh, I'm sure we can just waltz in…" Carl said nervously.

He looked significantly at Van Helsing who then seemed to catch on and delivered the correct response.

"I have no desire to return to Transylvania," Van Helsing snapped.

_Too bad_, thought Carl mercilessly.

"Deal with it," he said to his friend.

Van Helsing strode across the small space between them and bent over to look Carl straight in the eyes. "What's happened to the timid man I first met?"

"I've changed," Carl replied evenly. "My dreams…"

His companion told him quietly, "Don't change too much."

There was a silence, but it was comfortable. Brief understanding passed between the two of them. Van Helsing straightened up and nodded briskly. "I'll gather our things immediately."

"Wait," Carl said and the hunter stopped in his tracks. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

Jem Kan watched this exchange in satisfaction.

* * *

The bartender of The Jamison Jewel had seen his fair share of strange characters in the twenty or so years he'd been working in the inn. It seemed that particular night had attracted more interesting people than usual.

Two men entered the inn, dressed mostly in black and both wearing floppy hats. They were accompanied by a boy dressed as a manservant and carrying a heavy looking bad effortlessly. The bartender gave them a beady stare on their approach.

"Lodging for three, one night,"tThe tallest of the group said easily, sliding some coin across the bar.

For a moment, the bartender thought he saw golden eyes blaze at him. Overcome with anxiety, he quickly gave them the lodgings. Maybe he had imagined it, but even so, that group had an air of mystery around them.

* * *

"My backside is so sore!" Carl exclaimed as soon as they were in their assigned rooms. "I don't see why we have to constantly ride horses for days on end."

Van Helsing threw off his hat and began a quick check over his sword. Jem Kan kicked off his brown leather shows and gave the hunter a scathing look. "Is there ever a time when you're _not_ gazing over your weapons?"

"I'm about to use it," Van Helsing said easily. "Carl – I challenge you to a fight."

Carl blinked at him. "A sparring match? Are you touched in the head? My derrière is sore."

"That doesn't stop you from fighting."

Jem decided they were being too war faring and turned into his minuscule self, taking up residence in a bag full of crucifixes. Van Helsing threw a silver bullet at the fairy. "Keep your hands of those. Choke on this."

"That's not wise!" Carl spluttered. "We don't want Jem addicted to silver."

"Too late."

Van Helsing grinned at him, then brandished his polished sword. Carl accepted the challenge and drew out his own. "Isn't it a little crowded in here?"

"Be creative," Van Helsing replied. "Now show me what you've got."

Carl swung at him immediately, but his companion parried and sidestepped. Carl did not overbalance, pushing himself off the wall with a bent leg. Van Helsing met the flurry of attacks, allowing Carl to take the offensive for a few moments, then made sure the blades intercepted. He pushed and his force sent Carl careening into the door.

"Can you take that outside, please?" Jem said angrily. "I'm trying to sleep."

Carl twisted the doorknob and stumbled outside. Van Helsing followed, kicking the door shut and shouting through, "Better?"

"Much!" Jem answered and closed his eyes.

Outside, Van Helsing again exerted force through the crossed blades, this time sending Carl down the stairs. Carl rolled onto his feet, pulled a dagger from his boot and threw it up the narrow staircase. Van Helsing sidestepped it, then wrenched it out of the wall.

"Now that's cheating," he reprimanded.

Carl cautiously watched him descend the stairs. "You should have seen me gambling on the way back to Rome a few months ago."

"I had to save you from the debt collectors, remember?"

"Oh yes, that's right."

Van Helsing suddenly jumped the last few stairs. Carl shuffled to the side and kicked him right into the bar. Following, he had to duck as his friend's sword sliced the air.

"That could have beheaded me!" Carl puffed indignantly.

"Shame I missed, then."

The patrons of the bar were frozen in shock. Ignoring them (and the affronted bartender), both continued to fight. Carl leapt onto the bar and poised, ready. The bartender swatted at his legs. Van Helsing took a running jump in following and performed an uppercut.

Carl forced his sword back down, then stepped backwards to overbalance his opponent. It didn't work the way he wanted – he had reached the end of the bench. Carl went flying backwards and landed hard on a table sporting exotic drinks. Showered in alcohol, he apologised to the people either side of him and rolled onto the floor.

Unfortunately, he rolled right into a pair of boots belonging to Van Helsing. The blade that was suspended just above his nose signalled the end of the sparring match. Carl let out a gusty sigh. "You win this time, Jack."

"We're even now." Van Helsing helped him to his feet. "Should you apologise or should I?"

"I'm in no mood to be glared at. You do it."

Van Helsing scanned the silent but incensed crowd. "Let's just leave it this time, Faramir."

Both disappeared out the door as the uproar started.

* * *

She rested a pint between her hands, but had no intention of drinking it. She could not believe her eyes – yet, it was his fighting form and the other man had called him by the name she knew.

Strapped to her side was a light, thin bladed sword tailored to her. She'd worn that by her side for countless years, in search of him. And he had just walked by her, not even seeing her. It was possible he didn't remember – wiped clear of the happy existence he'd shared with her.

She would leave when they did the next morning. She would follow them to the ends of the Earth if need be – first she'd actually have to find out which room they were lodged and she'd be damned if she was going to climb those trees outside to peep through the windows.

Who knew what she'd see anyway…

* * *

Yes! That was HER! (Guess. No really, guess. It's not Shelob, if you're thinking Lol) I brought HER in due to request. Besides, I need some romance in this fic anyway!

Oh, people, you should see _The London Assignment_. The train looks even more real than the characters. I was in stitches over it. And go the Holy water pistol!

::"In our line of business, there's the dead…and the dead. That settles it – they're really dead."::

::"You may kiss the royal cheek…" & snogs him instead::


	9. Castle Frankenstein and Emma Wyndon

Disclaimer: I own nothing, really.

Yay! An update! Be thankful to Australian Sunday night telemovies for this! Lo and behold two made-for-TV movies with David Wenham!! That last one was a bit worrying...I though that ladder he was on was going to kill him...but that's just me. What can I say – Australian movies.

Hello! Vangst is back! But this time, Van-the-man will deal with it properly.

* * *

It was a general consensus to skirt the populated areas and work their way carefully up to the Valerious manor. Jem Kan tilted back his head, whistling in admiration. Carl beamed triumphantly. "I told you it was not a bad place to start."

"Nah, I'm not looking at _that_," the fairy said happily and pointed beyond.

Van Helsing and Carl followed his gaze, which was resting on the mammoth Castle Frankenstein in appreciation. Van Helsing sighed wearily and threw his weapons back onto the horse appropriated from a shifty character on the road. He began leading the horse to Castle Frankenstein.

"Van Helsing!" Carl called after him. "Do you think that wise?"

Jem shrank and buzzed after the dark haired hunter. Not a word was spoken in reply to Carl, who watched them, disgruntled. Carl hurried to catch up with the pair of them, spluttering, "There is a wealth of information in the Valerious manor!"

"We'll just move it," Van Helsing told him without looking around. "You said you needed the space."

"No I didn't!"

Jem buzzed past Carl's ear and made sure the ex-friar saw him poking his tongue out. Carl swatted at him, but missed. The fairy darted to the other side of him and giggled as Carl frustratedly swung wildly around but missed. Jem flew at his face, making Carl back-pedal and trip over a branch lying on the ground.

It was then noticed that the sky was clouded over with dark grey omens. Carl shot to his feet and tried once more to convince the other two to stay. "The heavens are going to open up on us any moment!"

Van Helsing strode back and grabbed the collar of his coat, beginning to forcibly drag Carl along. "Then we if we hurry, we won't be caught in the rain."

Carl chose to remain silent. He tried to wriggle out of Van Helsing's grasp, but apparently his new found skills didn't quite match up. Jem Kan giggled at him then zoomed off ahead.

* * *

"It's cold. Where am I going to sleep? Are you sure strangers won't come in and murder us in our sleep?"

Carl ratted off his list of complaints while waving his arms around the empty – and admittedly chilly – stone walled room. Jem Kan whizzed by and clipped him on the ear, saying shrilly, "If you have no confidence in my locking spells, you can sleep outside in the old grave digger's hut."

"If my sword was within my reach..." Carl threatened.

Van Helsing came in, water dripping off his hat. Unperturbed by the derelict building and broken windows, he comfortably sat down on the floor and went over his dual pistols carefully. Jem appeared in his larger form, hands on his hips. "_He_ doesn't have a problem."

"Or _he_ is smart enough not to pick a fight with a fairy," Van Helsing said flatly. "Jem, make yourself useful. I feel a draft – fix that up will you?"

Without a word, Jem resized himself again and conjured glass in the windows. He muttered under his breath, spelling the glass to reflect the innards of the castle as uninhabited. Carl shivered and drew his cloak closer around him.

"Now what do we do?" he demanded.

His companion merely scrunched his sopping hat into a ball and used it as a pillow. Van Helsing muttered, "Sleep, if God is willing. Evil can wait can't it...?"

Inconceivably, the hunter dropped off to sleep. Carl scowled at him. Before he could say anything grumpily, Jem landed right in front of him. "You need sleep, great man of Gondor!"

"W-What did you just say?" Carl stammered, a month of training his composure down the drain.

"Nothing," Jem said tartly and blew twinkling dust hard at him.

Carl was asleep before his head hit the ground.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, Carl sat up and looked around. He wished he hadn't, as his bones and muscles protested stiffly. Rubbing his neck, he found Van Helsing calmly sitting in front of a roaring hearth. Carl jumped up, ignoring his aches. He strode over, stretching out his limbs.

"You're up," commented Van Helsing without turning around.

Carl winced. "I wish I wasn't. Where's Jem?"

Van Helsing shifted so that Carl could have more room to sit. There was a pause, then the former explained, "I sent him out to gather some equipment."

"Equipment," repeated Carl. "What kind of equipment?"

"Only the lab equipment you were bemoaning about losing."

Carl's voice cracked. "You told Jem to steal from the _Vatican_?"

Van Helsing smiled cruelly. "I also got him to leave a message. If we're going after monsters, I'd like us to be well equipped. It would also be handy to know where they are."

"Should I be worried that you're thinking well ordered thoughts?" demanded Carl, but in good humour. "Perhaps I should knock it out of you."

Carl unsheathed his sword and waved it in front of his partner's nose. Van Helsing smothered a yawn. "If you think it would help."

* * *

Jem Kan was enjoying himself. He loved havoc, particularly if it him doing the wreaking. He'd upset a monk already, destroying years of scroll work. But he had his orders and couldn't spend all day annoying the Vatican.

He snapped his fingers and Carl's equipment vanished. The poor soul using it caught sight of him and screamed, "Warlock!"

"I'm a fairy," pouted Jem. "A silver deranged psychopath sent from your enemies to haunt you!"

"I have no enemies!" cried the scientist and fled.

Jem happened upon the very man he'd been sent to see. He grew to his human size and bowed deeply. "Cardinal Jinette, I bring you tidings of the mercenaries Jack and Faramir Willis."

"Tidings of destruction, I take it," the man said grimly.

Jem beamed at him and launched into his rehearsed speech. "Alright, here's the deal man-who-is-red-but-has-no-horns, these brothers – they know what they're doing. And they know all about you. I think they captured some random friar guy. Anyway, they're going to run things their way. This means, when you send someone to slay a creature, you'll find the Willis boys have already dealt with it. Your purpose in this world will be little and your work reduced to chasing those better than you.

"You may even find that those who you would slay are helping the world, not hindering it as you are. Take me for example," the fairy added thoughtfully.

Jem had to disappear as a blade came flying at him. The message was delivered. The Vatican knew they were being reduced to cinders. Now, if only he could pinch some of that silver...

* * *

Carl didn't know why he was dismayed to see his lab equipment again. He was pleased that it wasn't broken, though spent the better part of two hours scrubbing away at grime.

"No respect for science," he grunted as he worked. "Probably tried to vaporise Jem on the spot."

A twittering voice sounded from behind him. "Aw, becoming soft on me?"

Carl spun around and glared at the fairy. "It doesn't do to eavesdrop!"

"Oh, so you lost to Van Helsing again," Jem remarked. "You can't use by the book strikes and parries _all_ the time."

Carl pushed his hair out of his face, frowning. "You, I need to talk to."

"We are talking."

"Why did you call me a man of Gondor last night?" Carl asked keenly.

Jem rolled his eyes. "Because you are. And no, don't go pelting me with questions. You'll remember when your mind wants you to. Just like Van Helsing..."

Here the fairy decided to vanish. Carl growled and kicked a loose stone. It skittered across the floor and nearly hit Van Helsing who just entered the cellar room.

"Jem says there are gargoyles in Budapest," the hunter said tersely.

Carl snapped to attention. Finally something he had some ground with! He knew what was needed to deal with gargoyles, and that had come from book study, not useless and vague dreams. He rummaged through the mess. "Alright, you'll need steel tipped bullets to puncture the thick armour. You'll need to be fairly close to get a good shot. Ah, I see Jem brought me what I'd call viscous material. My short tests have led me to believe it is acidic and will burn through almost anything. Whoever was working on this must have had a good head on his shoulders..."

Van Helsing accepted several vials of the substance and tucked them into his belt. He studied Carl for a moment, then said, "You're coming with me."

"I'm not a field – God, what am I saying? Give me a minute! I'll be right along."

"So you consent to having Jem guard the castle while we're gone." Van Helsing sounded dispassionate.

Carl wrinkled his nose. "Well, as much as I find his habits annoying, Jem is trustworthy. Just don't leave anything silver lying around."

"It's a bit late for that," noted Van Helsing. "But I'm sure he wouldn't devour our weaponry. I'll get the horses saddled."

* * *

Being jerked about on a horse in pouring rain was not Carl's favourite past time, but he was too caught up thinking to notice. Jem Kan obviously knew something about the pair of monster hunters that he wasn't willing to disclose. Was the fairy truly honest and with good intent?

Carl forced himself to remember Frankenstein's monster.

_Not all creatures are evil_, he told himself firmly.

_Good reasoning_, Faramir said dryly.

Carl jerked and nearly fell out of his saddle. He choked on a drop of rain that had fallen in his mouth and had to bend over to still his coughs. He swallowed and tried to formulate a response,

I have not heard a peep from you since before entering Transylvania.

_You hardly seem to need me_, his inner voice noted airily.

_Well, I sure as Hell want to know what Jem knows about me! Seeings as I can't even help myself._

Carl did not get any sort of reply to his outburst. He glowered at the mane of his horse and looked under his hat at Van Helsing. "How much longer?"

"We'll stop for tonight," was the answer. "There's a hollow tree ten metres ahead that should shelter us."

Carl swung off his horse and led it near the tree. He tied the reigns onto a branch then collapsed into the dry mound of bark and leaves beneath the tree. Van Helsing soon joined him, not bothering to start the futile task of lighting a fire. The only sound for a few minutes was the continuous down pour and the roaring wind.

"I don't think I'll ever like Transylvania," remarked Van Helsing suddenly.

Carl wrung out his soaked hat. "Well, yes, the weather is atrocious. Oh." He realised. "Anna."

Van Helsing leant back against the hollow of the tree. "It was a poor ending for such a woman. She deserved better."

"Uh huh."

Carl knew he had to tread lightly. Finally his partner was opening up and he didn't want to be the one to close the flood barrier.

"For years those I killed deserved to die," Van Helsing continued. "But not Anna. She was...pure. I don't know if I'll ever get over her."

Carl shifted nervously. "I'll let you in on a secret."

"Do tell." Van Helsing grabbed at the distraction.

"I keep dreaming about a wonderful woman. I feel deeply for her, but she is gone. She's just a dream, a figment of the past. I move on. Perhaps it is time for you to move on."

Van Helsing raised an eyebrow. "I take it this is one of those Faramir things."

Carl confirmed this with a nod of his head. He hesitated, hoping offence hadn't been taken.  
I don't mean to sound insensitive..."

"I know." Van Helsing sighed. "Move on. Right. You give out the easiest advice to follow, don't you?"

"It's a living."

Van Helsing rolled his eyes. He shifted around to find a comfortable position. "Now that we've picked apart my emotional issues, can we get some sleep?"

"Oh, dammit," Carl snapped. "I'm going to get a cold with all this wet."

"It's a living, isn't it _Faramir_?"

* * *

Emma Wyndon, once known as Éowyn, cursed softly. She was furious with herself for missing the departure of her quarry and was thus unable to procure any trail they may have taken. She began to wonder if it had all been a dream, seeing Faramir.

She saddled her steed, uncomfortable with the dark stable. Emma mounted up and gave her horse a nudge. She whispered to the animal, "Well, Steward, let's find him."

Upon entering Transylvania, she wondered if the locals could be more flighty. Emma asked around with a description of her Faramir, but came to no conclusive information. When at last her voice was worn out from asking, she decided to search the vast fringe outside the village by herself.

On a muddied path winding into a lightly wooded area, Emma was startled to find hoof prints. The area had looked abandoned, with a dark and foreboding castle as its crowning glory. She guided Steward up the path onto the cobblestone entrance to the castle's battlements. It reminded her of Minas Tirith, but on a smaller scale.

Emma looked up at the desolate building, perplexed. On loose inspection, it was uninhabitable and uninhabited. But her searching travels had taught her not to judge a book by its cover. She led her horse through rotted wooden doors, glancing about.

A noise startled her into drawing her sword. Emma kept her voice steady, "Who's there?"

When she turned to the doors, she saw a boy standing there, watching her calmly. Emma walked slowly towards him. "I thought this place was abandoned."

"It was," the boy admitted. "But my masters live here now."

"And who might they be?"

The boy frowned hard at her for a moment, then his brow relaxed. "They go by the names Jack and Faramir Willis."

"What do you know of them?" Emma questioned, hand tightening on her sword hilt.

She'd obviously come to the right place – and she wasn't leaving until she found out more. She waited impatiently, tapping her foot. The boy gave a sweeping bow. "They have recently departed for Budapest, my lady. Perhaps it is better if you here that information from them."

He vanished without a trace. Emma spun around, trying to find him, but the boy was long gone. She would wait here, she supposed. But by the suddenly chilly atmosphere in the building, she guessed correctly that hanging around wouldn't be such a great idea. She'd heard of phantasms and how they tricked people to their deaths.

Emma left quickly, spurring her mount towards Budapest.

* * *

Next chapter we find out a bit about Emma's past and how she found out who she was. We also have a gargoyle encounter, the general mayhem that follows our favourite monster hunters and confusion – mostly on Carl's part I have to say.

Sorry about the lack of updates – I've had blinking exams and assignments to get done. But now, it's all good. I think.

**Quote of the chapter**: "I'm not a field man!"

Well sorry Carl, now you are.


	10. Gargoyles

Disclaimer: To whom it may concern…I don't believe this is mine.

AN: Well this might come as a shock to several people…I admit it has been a looong time since I thought of Carl and his Holy Order Mark II. Three years in fact…and my writing style has changed a lot. Anyway, I hope old readers won't be disappointed and new readers will be just as entranced.

* * *

"It shouldn't be too hard to find the gargoyles," Carl supplied helpfully, wincing as the horse shifted uneasily – thusly chafing his already bruised backside.

Van Helsing glanced over at him and said dryly, "The screams did not clue me in. So glad to have you here with me."

Torn between laughing and swiping his blade across his companion's throat, Carl settled for the former and nicked his heels on the sides of his horse, taking him off on a small trot through the crowded street. He didn't want Van Helsing to guess – perhaps he already suspected – how his heart started hammering at the shrill sounds piercing the bustling marketplace. Hoping it was adrenalin and not the fear he so often felt, Carl avoided gazing at the disinterested faces of those passing by the flanks of his steed.

A hand slapped his shoulder and he turned to see all joking evaporate from his companion's face. Carl shrugged once in an attempt to reassure Van Helsing as much as himself, but the seasoned hunter wasn't fooled. Carl flashed a grateful grimace before continuing down past the spills of chamber pots being tossed from windows above their heads.

The moment passed and once again he was speaking calmly. "I hope we're not going anywhere near Margitsziget. The monks there would waste no time sending a message to the Vatican."

"I've yet to hunt a gargoyle to an island without a bridge, Faramir," Van Helsing commented easily, a hand resting on the holster of one of his pistols, "Just be glad it isn't raining anymore."

Carl's feet still protested from their prison in soggy socks. Perhaps Jem could cast some spell on their clothing in the future to stop this sort of humiliation. It would just be his luck for Van Helsing to have perfectly dry feet and wearing a smirk if he was caught willingly consorting with the fairy.

_Oh stop complaining_, the inner voice snapped.

_Let me guess, you've had worse._

Images of battle flashed past his eyes and he choked on the stinging scent of blood sweeping down his throat. His mind was getting too crowded with this sort of thing, honestly. Faramir pointed out icily, _We've had worse_.

"Don't know why you didn't let me cover my face," Van Helsing complained after a few minutes of tracking the now faded screams.

Carl snorted. "One look at you with that hat and your face hidden and the people would have gone running for the churches. Not that the sight of your whole face doesn't do that to some…"

"I'm going to ignore that comment."

"Well I hope you do, _Jack_, otherwise I'd have to beat you in a duel."

"Let's not get hasty. I've won fair and square every time."

"A sore winner cannot do well in God's graces," Carl fired back airily, deserving of the scowl he received in response.

The hooves of Van Helsing's horse clattered to a halt and the hunter raised one hand cautiously, motioning for Carl to stop. Dutifully, the former friar obeyed and cocked an ear, trying to hear anything. It seemed that not even Faramir had much chance discerning the noises assaulting him, for he certainly didn't hear whatever signal it was that set off Van Helsing in a mad dash through the street, scattering customers and prostitutes without apology.

"Oh, Hell, I'm going to regret this," Carl mumbled, "But maybe I'll think about that later."

He followed frantically.

* * *

A few minutes later, Carl almost slammed into his companion's horse as Van Helsing prowled the water's edge, casting his eyes over the horizons before resting his gaze on the bridge stretching across the river. Several passing patrons of the hotels spanning the promenade hurled insults and demands for them to move from the pathway.

"Gargoyles make a…squealing sound," Van Helsing explained shortly.

This was a reminder to Carl's heart, already beating fast with anticipation, but now deflating with his spirits. For some reason, the books had never mentioned that tidbit of information. He'd only carried the knowledge of sword fighting for a handful of months, and knew even less about firing a gun. The few years at the Vatican had been somewhat exciting, sending off Van Helsing to another mad bounty (except that sort of bounty was only paid with false promises of divine forgiveness), but Carl hadn't been along to many missions. Only two in fact…he couldn't really count the fumbling about he'd managed at Chanhassen's manor.

Van Helsing snapped his fingers in front of Carl's face. "With me so far? As long as you keep your eyes on the gargoyles, they can't disappear. It's only when you look away that those particular powers activate. Nasty trick, for them to appear behind you and stab you in the back."

"Oh. Right. Eye contact, got it. Are you sure you want me with you?"

"Are you a field man or a silver addict?" demanded Van Helsing.

Carl pressed his sweaty palms to his cloak, trying to discreetly wipe away the evidence of his anxiety. Mentally begging his inner Faramir voice to make a dig at him, he cleared his throat and slid out the mirror from his rucksack, passing it over to the hunter. "We'll need these, you know. When they see their reflection – "

"They freeze eternally. I think I would know this after enough missions."

"No need to sprinkle the salt on my wounds," Carl groused, "I don't suppose there's any chance of just asking them nicely to join our Order."

"Not a chance. They don't have the thinking capacity to see right from wrong. It would be best for us to deal with them and help these people."

They cantered side by side towards the public square that opened into the bridge. It was strangely deserted and a fell silence descended upon the birds pecking nervously along the cobblestones living the square. Carl gazed across at the bridge, noting, "Linking Buda and Pest. East meets West…it's a geographical nexus, no wonder the gargoyles came to this place."

"Can you hear them now?" asked Van Helsing tersely.

Carl strained his ears, waiting, and a gust of sharp wind battered against him, bringing the faint sound of a horrid wailing down from higher on the bridge. He tilted back his head to scan one of the supports that anchored itself into the bed of the river. An amused snort to his side snapped his attention back to his companion, who was smiling at him. Carl wrinkled his nose. "This is more than enough excitement for a humble friar."

"Good thing I don't know any such fool. Hobble the horses – we're going up."

Wanting to protest at being given a hardly exhilarating job, Carl bit his tongue and looped the reigns together over a post struck into the stone of the square. He supposed there would be thieves in the area so opted to use a certain type of knot, tricky enough to befuddle would-be vagrants, but easy enough for anyone who previously worked for the Holy Order to loosen. Van Helsing busily checked his weapons and strapped practically everything to his person. Once he'd finished, he started on Carl, much to the shorter man's protests.

"What would this look like, you touching me all over the place," Carl grumbled.

His companion guffawed in response, continuing to slide weapons into places Carl didn't even know existed on his belt or in his boots. Van Helsing stepped back and nodded in apparent satisfaction, finishing off by equipping Carl with a second mirror. Walking briskly off to make his way across the bridge, he gave no indication of his plans to reach the top of the support column. Carl quickly darted a hand into his saddle bag and retrieved what could only be described as dark, syrupy "viscous material". It _could_ come in handy. After all, substances that he had no clue about had helped him in the past.

"I don't see any stairs we could use," panted Carl as he hurried along after his friend, "And my feet are still too cold to do any climbing. You could at least tell me how to keep my feet dry."

"Only you could think about your feet at a time like this. Glad to see our pal Faramir hasn't changed that."

"Oh, well, he thinks about his feet too, I can tell you that!"

_See, we are not all that different._

_Shut up. I was just making a point to Van Helsing. He can be so…insufferable sometimes._

_I am in your head, remember. I know this stuff._

"Who needs stairs anyway," Van Helsing was remarking, oblivious to the conversation, as always.

Unhooking a device from his belt and sliding his arm around Carl's waist, he swung his free arm almost lazily. A hook exploded towards the sky, shooting higher and higher until it clasped the top of the support. Carl winced, imagining the scraping the metal would be making on the brick. He was about to make some other comment about their position when the words died on his lips. Or, rather, the words were left stranded with his breath on the ground as he was launched into the sky.

The wind whistling past his ears seemed to disappeared and his stomach felt oddly absent from his body. Too soon he was keeled over on top of the main bridge of Budapest, gasping, "VAN HELSING! Did the thought of giving me any sort of warning cross your mind?"

"Oh, I don't know, but can we talk about this later? I'm a little – " a pistol cocked itself next to Carl's ear " – busy right now."

Immediately, sense rushed back into his limbs and Carl shot to his feet, sword hilt jumping into his hand as though drawn to him. Two Gargoyles slouched towards them across the narrow landing, eyeing them beadily with blank grey eye sockets. Their wings, dully glinting like steel in the glary sun, squealed past each other as they fluttered in the creatures' territorial unease. Van Helsing raised the pistol with one hand while the other fell to the mirror sticking out from his belt.

The Gargoyles seemed to shrink back, growling menacingly.

"Keep your eyes on the one on the right," Van Helsing muttered out of one corner of his mouth, "And I mean keep your eyes on him. They know we've got mirrors."

Without a further word, he shifted his feet and moved off to the left, returning the gaze of his quarry, efficiently approaching without a single scuffle of his boots. It was easy to see why he was the most feared man in Europe – the fire in his eyes could have sent even the most sinful man on a pilgrimage, if only to escape him. Carl shook the thought away and kept his eyes to his own Gargoyle.

Movement flashed in the corner of his eye as Van Helsing darted forward, firing steadily and raising the mirror high in his fist. Clearly, Gargoyles were not stupid as it seemed to keep lurching about, wings screeching down to rattle Carl's ear drums. He winced and realised his mistake all too quickly. His quarry had vanished. Wheeling around to survey the area, he only just had enough time to duck to the side as the Gargoyle swooped low at him, talons extended.

"Eyes, Carl!"

"I – know!" wheezed Carl in response, slamming hard onto his stomach to avoid being sliced to pieces on the Gargoyle's next pass.

Splinters of stone whizzed past his face as a tell tale whirring signalled the appearance of one of Van Helsing's Tojo blades. The hunter must have dropped the gun, he realised with panic and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding being stabbed through the heart.

_Are you a warrior or not? _demanded his Faramir voice.

"Just – a – friar – " Carl hissed back, scrambling on his hands and knees as the creature swooped again.

_Alright, listen to me you big coward. You are NOT a friar, stop denying the man you are and do what you know you can. Van Helsing is depending on you!_

Carl's shoulder blades ached as he was thrown a few minutes onto his back, searing pain raking across his stomach. Shouting in surprise, he threw up his hand and grated his sword through one of the approaching talons, snapping it clean off. The Gargoyle howled in rage, swooping off briefly, allowing Carl to spring to his feet again, free hand sliding for the mirror on his own belt. It slipped from his grasp and shattered on the stone.

Carl stared numbly. "Seven years bad luck."

"Trust me, you won't have that long!"

Snapped from his daze by the hard edge in his friend's voice, Carl dropped to his knees and seized the biggest shard in his fingers, ignoring how it drew blood along his palm. He wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly he was holding the shard high as though it were a crucifix and screaming in response to the fast approaching Gargoyle as it cawed angrily. A dazzling light shot from between his fingers and suddenly he was lying sprawled on the ground, grasping his leg with both hands as the immobile creature fell across it.

"DAMMIT!"

There was some part of him that wanted to dance in triumph – he had faced the creature and won, but now he was trapped and unable to help Van Helsing. Oh well he could probably handle himself. This wasn't the first Gargoyle the hunter had the misfortune to be sent after. Blinking through a haze of pain, Carl realised his friend was backed against the ledge, mirror lost from his reach. Frantically tugging at his leg, he knew it was no hope. The crash of his own quarry had sent stone chips flying into Van Helsing's vision, blinding him momentarily.

Why was this always his fault?!

Short of breaking his leg, if it wasn't already, Carl couldn't see how he could…he jerked in shock as a spray of icy water shot past him, splattering the Gargoyle. Haha, that's funny, he thought tiredly, who in God's Earth would put water on something like that?

But it seemed to work. Spitting in fear, it roared off into the clouds. A trail of golden hair brushed past his face and Carl swiped a hand to hold it, but missed. His heart leaped, but he couldn't explain why it did, or why his whole being filled with familiar but mysterious warmth. He tried to focus on the scene in front of him as a woman grabbed one of Van Helsing's forearms with both hands and tugged him back to safety.

"It's coming back!" she cried.

This time, nothing could stop Van Helsing spinning and hurling his mirror at the oncoming beast. It tumbled into the river below, disappearing with a splash and one last baleful eyeless stare to the sky above. A gasp escaped Carl before he understand it's meaning –

"Éowyn!"

"It has been too long, my love."

Next moment, he was once against flattened against the stone landing, but with a much more pleasant warm weight pressing against him and lips warring with his in a passionate kiss. His surprise didn't quite overwhelm the incomprehensible desire to keep kissing her back and wrapping his arms around her slim frame.

"Someone you know?" Van Helsing asked, sounding merely bored, perhaps as though nothing new could surprise him.

Carl turned his head to break away from the inviting embrace in which he found himself. He wrenched his sore shoulders into a helpless shrug, offering, "I think…this is Faramir's wife."

His companion snorted and seized the back of the woman's travelling cloak, pulling her easily off the ground. Drawing herself up to her full height, a good deal taller than Carl, Van Helsing noted with amusement, she spoke with a steely voice, tipped with English tones. "I have been searching for you for some time. It would seem that I found you just in the right time. I am Emma Wyndon."

"He's glad to meet you," Van Helsing grunted in reply as he shifted the heavy weight off Carl's leg.

Carl winced and rubbed his ankle. The euphoria of the kiss was fading, replaced with a throbbing ache from his leg. With a little help from being supported on Van Helsing's shoulders, he was able to stand up to better regard a woman who had flitted in and out of dreams, unremembered fully until that moment. Hesitantly, he probed, "Why did the water make it retreat?"

"They fear water," Emma answered smoothly, "Because sometimes it can show their reflection."

Van Helsing cleared his throat. "I'd hate to interrupt the scholarly chat, but we need to disappear. Perhaps we can continue this another time – another year, perhaps."

She shook her head vehemently, eyes boring into both of theirs with determination. After spearing them with a sharp silence, Emma said urgently, "No, you must hear me out. Something terrible is coming, and I don't know how much longer we can let it come unhindered."

"If I had a quid for every time someone said something like that…" growled Van Helsing, but trailed off with a demanding glance from Carl, "Alright, I could use some help getting _him_ home."

It was surely a blow to his dignity, Carl supposed as he clung to the back of a ghost from his past, trying not to be dislodged from a powerful horse as Emma sent it racing after Van Helsing's steed. Apart from the bobbing of the ride jolting more fiery pain into his ankle, there was a greater pain as he found himself once again useless.

He drew in a deep shuddering breath, inhaling her scent desperately, as though afraid she would vanish into thin air. His heart skipped a beat, causing him to tighten his grip about her waist. Soon enough he slipped away in the realm of dark unconsciousness, engulfed by dreams of the fair lady, clearer than ever before.

* * *

Hope that didn't disappoint...I have every intention of finishing this as soon as I am able.


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